The Dark Lord's Nightmare
by Jack Darko Fisher
Summary: TNBC xover Harry's sixth year. Jack Skellington is brought into the wizarding world and finds out some things about his life before HalloweenTown. Voldemort is in for the fright of his life, but so is Dumbledore. Wait, Dumbledore! Chapter Three up!
1. Chapter 1

AN: I am currently in a TNBC phase where it is all I can seem to think about. Therefore, I decided to use it to cure my writer's block in the formation of my first fanfic. So far, I am very proud of it. I hope you will enjoy it as well. Review if you want, criticism is appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or The Nightmare before Christmas. No suing.

The Dark Lord's Nightmare

_It was a dark and chilly Halloween night and the sky was clear and cloudless. Countless stars surrounded a bright full moon like sequins. Dozens of flashes of colored light interrupted the darkness. In the street below the sky's spectacle were people clothed in brightly colored robes who were shooting streams of light at others garbed in black._

_A young man with brown hair and twinkling blue eyes stood at the center of the fray in a shimmering blue robe. His name was Albus Dumbledore, age 25. Directly beside him was another man, tall and handsome with messy black hair and shining green eyes full of mischief. He wore an eccentric black and white striped suite with a bat for a bowtie. He was Jack Skellinton, Albus's best friend. Tonight was his 26__th__ birthday._

_Soon the pair was back to back and surrounded by the black robed enemy. Their mowed down brethren lay either dead or unconscious outside of the circle. Albus trembled in terror, mind and heart racing. Jack on the other hand seemed cool and calm. It gave Albus chills. Sometimes he wondered if his friend was even human, though he knew he was since they had spent much of their childhood lives together._

_He was brought out of his musings when the gathering of black dressed figures parted to reveal whom he assumed to be their leader, Lord Grindelwald. The gap closed as the man stepped completely into the circle of his followers. Albus, his throat paper dry and unable to utter a single spell, was scared stiff. Jack, he noticed, did not appear phased in the least by the lord's sudden appearance. In fact, his resolve seemed to strengthen rather than weaken. To him this was a chance to end it, once and for all._

"_Albus, listen to me. One of us is not going to live to see the morning. I am not going to let it be you. You have an important future ahead, of that, I am certain. Just as I am certain I was not meant to be a part of it. I'm sorry," said Jack with a note of sadness._

"_No! Don't do it!" cried Albus, fully aware of what spell was on the tip of Jack's tongue. Jack paid him no mind as he uttered the words of his own destruction and his friend's salvation. There was an intense flash of blue light and a massive wave of magical energy, and then it was over. He was alone, surrounded by the corpses from both sides including his best friend._

_"I swear Jack, your sacrifice will not have been made in vain," he whispered in despair. It was unlikely Jack's death would have been in vain anyway, however, since it accomplished his goal of killing Grindalwald and ending the war against the first dark lord. Therefore, Albus's words were void of any true meaning._

_--_

Many years later, an old man bolted awake from the nightmare created by his memories of that fateful Halloween night. He had not dreamt of that night in many years and the sudden reoccurrence disturbed him greatly. However, he was not the only one. In a place the old headmaster could only ever see in his nightmares, another had awoken due to the same dream. This individual, however, made no connection between the dream and himself. He had already forgotten most of it. The skeleton could only scratch his skull and wonder before drifting back into the realm of sleep. Little did the two know that fate would someday throw them together again.

Back in Halloween Town, a certain skeleton was walking home after that year's Halloween celebration. It had been a complete success, as always. Though, for some reason Jack wasn't in the best of moods. He was thinking about the night before when he had awoken to a strange dream. He could not remember it clearly. It had faded into a vague fuzziness the moment he had opened his eye sockets. The more he tried to remember the dream the further away it floated from his grasp. Much like whenever he attempted to remember his life before Halloween Town. Perhaps it had been a memory, only able to come to him in sleep. He did not know.

Little did he know that he was in for a surprise. In the Real World, or the Mortal Realm, a group of wizards gathered in a dank basement for a very special task assigned to them by their lord. They gathered in a circle, joined hands around some form of pentagram, and began to chant. This ritual, much to the oblivious Pumpkin King's misfortune, was designed to summon spirits who had passed on to the next world. Simply put, it summoned the dead. Why the group sought to summon a dead spirit was anyone's guess. Nevertheless, they did and that was all that would matter. Half way through the spell's completion one of the circle members forgot the words. The spell backfired and killed every single person present in a great flash of green light.

--

Jack felt something grab him with a powerful jerk. When he opened his eye sockets, he was in the basement surrounded by a dozen or so corpses of dead wizards. Of course, he did not know what they were only that they were dead as doornails. The gathering had managed to summon their desired dead spirit, but at the cost of their own lives. The skeleton scratched the top of his skull in puzzlement. Where was he? Certainly not the underground lair of Oggie Boogie, that was much more colorful than the dreary place he was in now.

"Well I might as well figure out where I am. Maybe someone can help me get back. There are only 365 days until next Halloween," he groaned as he made his way up the stairwell to the surface. He emerged in an abandoned house that was about to collapse any moment. Termites had eaten away the majority of the wood, making the frame dangerously unstable. If it were not for that Jack could say it was rather cozy. It was not tiny, but not particularly large with two stories and decent floor space. He found the front door with relative ease only to find it boarded tightly shut. Scratching his chin, he examined the door, thinking of a way he could open it.

He did not get very long to think. Just as an idea surfaced in his mind, the door exploded inward in a shower of wooden splinters. Startled, he instinctively threw up his arms to protect his face. This was unnecessary of course since he was a skeleton. When the dangerous door fragments had all fallen to the floor with a clatter he lowered his spindly arms and blinked dumbly as a menagerie of oddly dressed mortals crowded into the house. Each was wearing a brightly colored robe and pointing at him with sticks. Giving them his friendliest smile, he put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

They were an odd bunch, several of them redheads. One man had a long crooked nose and greasy black hair. Jack imagined he would have done well for himself in Halloween Town. Another looked gray with sickness but his golden eyes burned with a fierceness that belied his ragged appearance. A woman with color changing hair was a bit distracting, and… His gaze fell upon an old man who was at the head of the crowd. He was dressed in purple with silver stars and had a long white beard. A tall wizard's hat and half-moon glasses perched atop his nose completed the look. But what interested Jack were his twinkling blue eyes. They looked terribly familiar but he couldn't place where he would have seen them before.

Albus Dumbledore was equally perturbed. The figure before him had a very familiar air about him, especially the suite. The only person he had ever seen wear a suite like that had been his best friend. It looked like the exact same suite. No, that was not possible. Was it? Dumbledore questioned whether he was going senile the way everyone thought he was. Perhaps it would be best to get it over with and ask the skeleton's name. What could it hurt? Besides, the sooner he confirmed his own sanity, the better.

"Who are you, my boy?" he asked. Those around him began to whisper and shuffle their feet. What was their leader doing talking to a skeleton? They all nearly fell over in shock when he received an answer. No one, least of all Albus Dumbledore, expected what that answer would be.

"Why, my name is Jack Skellington. I'm the Pumpkin King."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I apologize to those reading this that it has taken so long for me to update. Unfortunately, my TNBC phase did not last through to the second chapter, so I am writing this with a little less inspiration and more on a desire to complete it than anything else. I thank you for your patience. I happen to be a rather slow worker. Thank you to the three who have reviewed since my story's posting. Your words are highly encouraging and have spurred my hands into typing action (Though I should be in bed). I realize that this crossing is of rare occurrence, which is why I chose it. Now on with the fic. Enjoy.

The Dark Lord's Nightmare

Chapter Two

Voldemort was not a happy camper, as was obvious to his inner circle as he paced the stone floor of the headquarters basement. When Voldemort was not happy, no one was happy. It was an unwritten rule. As to the reason for their Lord's foul mood, well that was any death eater's guess. Voldemort himself knew all too well the source of his displeasure. Where were those blasted underlings he had sent for a simple summoning ritual? Okay, so the ritual was not exactly simple. It consisted of some of the most difficult incantations the wizarding world had ever produced. So much could go wrong... that was why he had sent his best ritualists! Then where were they? Did he have to do everything himself? Incompetents surrounded him! Surely, he could successfully summon his desired dead spirit. If he could wage a war all on his lonesome he wouldn't have risen an army!

In the midst of his silent tantrum, the arrival of his most cleverly placed spy Severus Snape, called his attention. Hopefully, he brought good news of that old codger Dumbledore's flaming chickadee club. Collecting himself, the Dark lord Voldemort motioned Severus forward. Snape knelt before him submissively as he recited his message. Ah, how he enjoyed staring at the backs of these fools he called his servants... Now was neither the time nor the place. 'Pay attention you crazed snake!' he mentally hissed to himself with a good imaginary kick. Snape was just finishing with the pleasantries when he snapped back into reality.

"My Lord, The Order of The Phoenix has captured your prize. During the summoning of the dead spirit, the ritualists lost their lives. Still, the spell succeeded, and now they have the summoned held in the dungeons of Hogwarts in the hopes of questioning it. Shall I bring it to you sire?" drawled the potions master.

Voldemort thought over the situation. His best ritualists were dead, his dead spirit with the order... How could he work this to his advantage? This thought process was brief, for within moments he had calculated a most devious plan. It was not the best plan he had constructed, but it could prove most entertaining executed correctly.

"That will not be necessary Severus. Our little friend may remain where he is for the time being. I would like to see how his stay plays out. However, I want you to keep a close eye on him and all activity that concerns him. I am relying on you to be my eyes and ears within Hogwarts more than ever. Do not disappoint me Snape. You may go."

With the slightest wave of his hand, he dismissed Severus. Unlike his other followers, Snape glided from the room gracefully. He liked that. It meant he trusted Voldemort with his life. He could count on that kind of loyalty. It was why Severus was included in his inner circle. If he ever dared to call anyone a friend, it would be Severus Snape. Nevertheless, it would not be as much fun if he commanded total loyalty from all of his followers. He needed someone to torture when prisoner numbers ran low.

--

Snape returned to Hogwarts puzzled by his Lord's behavior. Voldemort was not usually the sit-back-and-watch kind. Who was he to question orders? Going into the dungeons, he noticed that their deceased guest was not alone. Dumbledore and half the order were in there with him. 'I wonder what developments have been made since I left.' thought Snape as he entered the creature's cell. The skeletal figure was even more disturbing in the dreary light. It stood so straight and tall it could only have been of noble blood while living and held an air of awe about it. This spirit held unspeakable secrets and power in its bony fingers. No wonder Voldemort wanted him so badly.

"Am I interrupting something Headmaster?" he inquired as he stopped to stand beside the elder wizard, watching the skeleton all the while.

Albus smiled, eyes twinkling, and replied without bothering to turn and face him. All his attention was transfixed on their freakishly skinny guest.

"Not at all, Severus. I was just having a small chat with our guest here. I do not think I will get much further until we are alone. Now, if you all don't mind..." his voice trailed off, signaling the moment of departure for the rest of the cell's inhabitants.

Sluggishly they filed out, grumbling. They wanted to know why Dumbledore was so interested in a dead spirit. Once they were alone, Jack relaxed slightly. All those people had been staring at him, making him a bit tense and rather jumpy. He liked having an audience, but to command such total attention was disconcerting. Something was going on; something big that he felt concerned the life he could not remember. Everyone in Halloweentown knew that it would be unthinkable to remember life. How could they be expected to move on with memories of the past weighing them down? Little to his or his host's knowledge, a certain potions master was hovering beyond the heavy wooden door.

"Now then, Jack Skellington was it? Would you be so kind as to tell me what exactly you meant when you said you were the Pumpkin King?" asked the aged headmaster in his favorite grandfatherly fashion.

Unfortunately, that was not going to work on Jack. He may not remember his life, but he was wise (and a year older than Dumbledore). His guard was not going to be let down so easily. Even so, Jack felt the man's question deserved an answer. What could it hurt? It was not as if he was telling him where Halloweentown was.

"Of course, I meant that I am the ruler of Halloweentown." replied Jack. It was simple, frustratingly so. Albus knew there was more to it, but Jack was determined to give him condensed, precise answers. Smart lad, for a skeleton.

"I do not recall ever having heard of a Halloweentown." he mused, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. Jack just smiled.

"Well you wouldn't really. Only the people living there know it even exists." said Jack, answering the implied question with another truthful and vague reply. If this old mortal sought to outwit him, he was going to have a difficult time of it.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. He felt so old and tired all of a sudden. It was clear Jack did not remember him. However, the conversation sparked old and cobwebbed memories for him. He and his best friend had often held contests of wit. One would try to pry the other for information while the interrogated would answer with as little information as possible. Albus had always been the interrogator, and he always lost. Why did he expect this time to be any different? Despite the circumstances, little had changed. Jack in the meantime grew perplexed by his questioner's odd behavior and methods. It was clear something was weighing down on his mind. He had lapsed into a lengthened silence, deep within his own thoughts. Jack could not help but think the old one was thinking about him. 'How am I going to learn anything if he doesn't trust me like he once did? I know he would have told me everything while he was alive. Perhaps... It is frowned upon... It may be the only way to get through to him. I must try.' thought the aged headmaster. Jack knew he had come to some form of decision when he saw his captor's eyes light up with a new resolve and determination. A voice in the back of his skull told him he was in for a surprise if he did not escape now.

"Listen, if you will. I need to go back. You must understand, I do not belong here. You don't know how important it is." he reasoned as he slowly backed away from the wizard who was advancing at the same pace. Even as he said it he knew the man wasn't listening.

"I'm sorry Jack." Albus murmured, raising his wand. The skeleton barely heard him as the spell hit him full force.

The inhuman shriek that escaped the spirit was unlike anything any of the wizarding world had heard before, and it was loud enough to fill the castle and spread over half of Hogwarts' grounds. Faint echoes were heard as far as Hogsmeade, like an eerie whispering wind. All the while Albus wondered if he was doing the right thing. Jack Skellington was in a great deal of pain. His skull felt like it was split open with an axe. Images flashed through his brain in electric pulses. Names and faces, events, places... all the memories he had forgotten. His hands pressed to the sides of his head as his face contorted in agony. His spine curved back unnaturally far until Dumbledore thought it would snap in two. All he could do was watch, as every living moment of Jack's old life forced its way back into his mind in a massive tsunami. Merlin, how he hoped Jack might forgive him.

AN: Ha! Another cliffy! I know, how cruel can I be? Nope, this is it for chapter two. Do not worry. I hope to get chapter three up much faster than this one. Right now, the power is out and I want to save the laptop battery. So until next time, Ja ne!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I know it has been an excessively long time, but as I said at the beginning of chapter two; Inspiration right now is in short supply. Besides, I just graduated from high school and most of my time is devoted to other projects. However, I have finally come across some free time and willingness to continue. So here it is, the looong awaited Chapter Three. Again, I apologize for the wait.

The Dark Lord's Nightmare

Chapter Three

Jack thought it would never end. The pain was relentless. It ripped through his skull like a dozen serrated blades. He remembered. He remembered everything. How could he have forgotten it all? How?! His legs crumpled and he fell to his knees, hands clutching at his head as though trying to keep the memories at bay. He knew this spell now; he knew it from his time at Hogwarts as a human child. It was most definitely illegal and considered just barely at the border between light and dark magic. The Lost Memory Charm they called it, designed to drag out memories dwelling deep in the crevices of the soul. Everyone knew that the dead could not remember life. Only once before in all of wizarding history was the charm used, and it had driven the recipient mad. The Pumpkin King could feel his heart break as he thought of Dumbledore. Why was he doing this to him? He knew the consequences! He knew the reason it was a forbidden spell! Did he even know on whom he was using the charm? Jack could feel the anger bubbling up from the deepest, darkest pits of his soul. How could Albus do this to him? Why? Was he the one who had needlessly brought him back to the living world? His screams reached a new height, fueled by his growing rage and contorting into an unholy roar of fury. Dumbledore would never hear the end of this if he had anything to say about it!

Albus watched in rising dismay and horror as he forced Jack's entire life out of the far reaches of his soul and back into the forefront of his mind. It was all he could do to concentrate on the spell. It would not be much longer now. He knew very well the charm was forbidden and why, but he never expected anything like this. If this really were Jack Skellington, he would have a lot of explaining to do when this was all over. Oh, how he hoped his old friend would find it in his heart to forgive him. If it were anyone else, Dumbledore would not have been quite as concerned. To him, The Order members were merely pawns to reach an end. However, Jack was utterly different. They experienced everything together, through thick and thin. Then Jack had sacrificed himself, had abandoned him for the rest of the world. How had he, Albus, repaid him? He had taken the credit as the sole survivor of that dreadful battle. Nevertheless, Jack did not need to know that, now did he?

"Don't worry old friend. It will all be over soon. I swear to you." The aged wizard whispered softly.

A certain potions master knelt outside the dungeon door covering his ears in pain from the sheer volume of the cries issuing from the room beyond. What in the hell was Dumbledore doing?! He needed to report this to Voldemort immediately! Was this what the Dark Lord had expected to happen? It had to be! Right now, he needed to get away from that dreadful sound. Whatever that old coot was up to, it was taking its toll on Severus Snape's abused eardrums.

--

Elsewhere in Hogwarts castle, a familiar sixteen-year-old boy curled up in bed in a vain attempt to drown out the horrid howls of the tortured soul. Harry Potter whimpered pathetically, body quivering. What was this? He could almost feel the pain of the person in their screams. His head felt like a split watermelon. Beyond the agonized roar, he could hear laughing. It was a sinister sound, like a horde of hissing snakes. The sound slithered through his mind and back out again, Voldemort's laugh. It had to be. Was the link getting stronger, or was the Dark Lord just that deliriously happy? Whatever the reason, it was in his head. Even so, the screams were definitely real. The Boy Who Lived tried desperately not to add to the cacophony of suffering assaulting every pair of ears within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Then, as suddenly as it begun, it stopped. Dumbledore lowered his wand to his side; tears trailing silently down his wrinkled face. Jack lay motionless on the stone dungeon floor, empty sockets staring blankly out the small barred cell window at the full moon in a starlit sky. His arms were spread out on either side of his body, making a perfect -if not terrifying- crucifix. Albus did not move to kneel beside his fallen comrade, too shaken to believe what he had done. Severus watched through the window in the door, determined not miss anything. He needed to know if the skeleton man was in his right mind after the ordeal, no matter how much he did not want to stick around to find out.

When the noise ceased, Harry bolted up from bed and snatched up his invisibility cloak. There was no way he was not going to investigate. He did not pause to wake Ron. He was amazed the other youth had slept through the ruckus. Hermione was not waiting for him in the common room. 'Must be too scared to stop me, for once.' he thought to himself. Harry was by himself in this one. Not that he minded. It meant less risk of detection. The three of them were growing too big to all hide under the safety of his father's cloak. He still felt a twinge of fear. What if there was a murder? No. No one like that could get into the castle so easily. It had to be something else. Maybe the Order had been interrogating a death eater for information. 'But they wouldn't do that, most certainly not at Hogwarts. Would they?' thought Harry.

Well, he would just have to go down to the dungeons and find out. How did he know it was in the dungeons? He shook his head. That was irrelevant. He had to figure out what was going on. The journey to the dungeons felt shorter than usual. Luckily, by then Snape had left after determining that the skeleton was not waking up anytime soon. Dumbledore would be soon to follow. Harry nearly died of a heart attack when he heard the cell door open. Quickly, he darted behind a corner. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Dumbledore. What was that old bastard doing there? Good thing he had hidden or the old man would have seen him, invisibility or no. What was the old goat hiding in that musty room? Dumbledore paused and looked around a moment, as though sensing his presence, but soon shook it off and left. As soon as he had gone, Harry made his move and scurried from his hiding place to the cell door. Murmuring a quick Alohamora, he dashed inside.

"Hello? Is someone there?" he whispered into the dank darkness.

--

Dumbledore took one last look at Jack before exiting the cell, closing the door behind him. He was about to leave the dungeons entirely when he felt someone watching him. When he examined the area there was no one there. He frowned, but did not dally further. He was tired and in great need of proper rest. Perhaps some fire whiskey would help him to nod off. After that, it would be difficult for him to sleep. Little did he know, it would be even more difficult than he thought. The night was young and Harry Potter was on the move.

Jack floated blissfully in thoughtless space, for however briefly it might be. There was no past, no present, just peaceful nothing. All too soon, his mind started to think once more, dredging everything back like so much extra baggage. Why could he not have a normal death? He could have been a poltergeist, or reincarnated. Oh no, he needed to become the Merlin be damned Pumpkin King. The only reason he could think of that anyone living would want him around was power. Considering his theory, where would Dumbledore fit into the equation? Very little was making sense to Jack's poor battered brain. He would have pondered further, perhaps even attempted to stand, if the sound of the door opening had not reached him first. Jack froze.

"Hello? Is someone there?" whispered an unfamiliar voice.

AN: Well, this is it for now. I am tired and require sleep. sighs When I started this, I had no idea where to go with the plot. I still do not. Maybe I will figure it out evenutally. Who knows? I hope to be able to think of somewhere for this to go before I start on chapter four. However, if anyone wants to drop in suggestions, it would be more than welcome. Until next time, good night.


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